Shattered Glass
by Katja Ivie
Summary: Devastated, paralyzed, broken, shattered. Gilbert's whole life is shattered the day of the crash. Everything he ever held close, so brutally taken away. How will he recover? How will he ever be okay again? Well, with the help of friends, maybe he can get somewhere close. That is, until it seems that his brother isn't done with him. (Angst, no pairings, rated T for blood)
1. The Screaming Man

**Hey guys! Yep, a new story. Been wondering why I haven't been updating my other fics? ... It's because of this one =.=; It's kinda taken over my free life and left no room for other stories. So...Here we are. I'm posting it here so you guys get something from me. Eh heh. But! Summer has arrived and I will have loads more time, so my other stories should be starting up again. So yay~ ... *awkward pause* Yep. So I hope you enjoy this!**

**Warning: Blood, injuries, people freaking out**

**Song suggestion: "Get Out Alive" by Three Days Grace. It's intense**

**Again, this story will only be edited by me, so please point out and excuse mistakes ^^ Danke!**

**Hetalia is not nor will it ever be mine.**

* * *

It happened like the shattering of glass.

One moment there was smiles, the next blood.

The light of heaven was ripped away by death's cold claws in an instant.

His whole world was smashed into oblivion because he looked away for a second. Just one second.

He heard nothing but ringing and saw nothing but red. It dripped into his eyes and coated everything around him. He knew he should be feeling pain, pressure, something, but all he felt was numb. His mind sluggishly tried to accept what he was seeing, what had happened, but it couldn't comprehend it. He didn't do this. He couldn't have done this. There was no way that that one second had caused all this destruction.

Suddenly things started to click as his vision overcame all the red. He was hanging upside down, saved by the belt around him. Glass shards were imbedded in his skin and scattered around him. His own blood was dripping off of him and was splattered across the consul. Vaguely, as if from far away, he felt his head pounding painfully behind his eyes. He stared at the red that had drained from his body. No way this was all his, but who's else could it be?

He froze, all of the blood still in him draining from his face. He felt his heart stop as he slowly turned his head to look at the seat next to him. His crimson eyes shook at the sight of the round face covered in that same color.

His scream shattered the ringing silence.

* * *

Matthew knew it was going to happen a second before it did. He could only watch in horror as the small car was T-boned by the bigger truck and thrown off the road. It rolled in the dirt and crashed against the ground, the windows shattering and one of the wheels flying off. It landed on its roof and stayed there, looking absolutely crushed.

After a moment of shock Matthew pulled off the road and parked his car as fast as he could. Cars behind him did the same as he flew out of his vehicle and raced to the crashed one.

"Call 911!" he called as loudly as he could over his shoulder. He saw someone already doing it so turned forward again.

As he drew closer to the car he heard desperate, horrified screams and gasps coming from inside. They made his heart race but his stomach drop and he pushed himself even faster. He slid to the driver's window and looked in through the empty hole. He saw a man hanging there, choking and gasping and dripping with blood. It stained his odd silver hair and covered the things around him.

Matthew was tempted to throw up right then, but his face hardened and he pushed down the bile. The man was obviously breaking down, the blond couldn't afford to panic.

He attempted to open the door, talking to the hyperventilating man as he did. "You need to calm down. Can you tell me your name?"

The pale man showed no signs of comprehending or even hearing him. He just continued screaming and struggling to breath. The door Matthew was struggling to open refused to budge, it was jammed into the car. He broke away with a gasp, cutting his hand on the sharp metal.

Hissing, he looked back at the more injured one. "The door won't open. Don't worry, help is on it's way."

It was then that Matthew realized that the red-eyed man was not looking at him, but at something on his other side. Matthew followed that panicking gaze and his violet eyes landed on a truly terrible sight. A small figure lay crumpled against the ceiling, bent in wrong ways and stained with blood. It was obvious that that small body did not take the crash well. Only the face wasn't broken, but it faced them with blood dripping down it and hollow eyes. Matthew pressed his quivering lips together.

Matthew now understood why the pale man's screams were starting to sound like sobs. His pale, dripping hand stretched out towards the boy, tears streaming out of his eyes and into his already stained hair. He screamed and choked but couldn't reach the boy. Try as he might he couldn't touch him. Matthew's heart ached at the sight of it, but he didn't know how to help.

"Hey," he tried gently, not knowing what else to do. "Hey, look at me. Everything's going to be okay, just look at me."

He was such a liar. How could he say everything was going to be okay when it so obviously wasn't? The man didn't even give him a glance, all of his focus was on the broken boy as he sobbed and screamed his horror. He was gone, lost in despair, nothing was going to get through to him. Matthew didn't know what to do, so he just stayed there saying quiet words of comfort to the traumatized man until the authorities arrived.

More people started to venture closer to the car, curious and wanting to make sure everything was okay, including the driver of the truck. Matthew stopped them all by raising his hand, telling them to give the car space. Everything was not okay, but no one else needed to see this sad scene. The driver of the truck came anyway even when everyone else stopped.

He was a tall man with wild blond hair and distressed blue eyes. Matthew stood up, blocking the view of the disaster in the car. He didn't think it was a good idea for the man to see what had been done. The guilt-ridden man froze when he heard the victim's scream and Matthew closed his eyes, not wanting to see the crippling guilt in the taller man's.

Big hands tangled in the wild blonde hair as the man's eyes became even more distressed. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I-I didn't mean to—Oh man, I w-would never have—I didn't even see it, I swear! I didn't—Oh gosh."

Matthew held up his hands in a calming gesture. "It's okay. It's okay, it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. These things just happen."

The others man's eyes suddenly hardened as his hands dropped away from his head and he looked at Matthew with a little anger. "Let me see."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Matthew tried.

The bigger man took an intimidating step forward. "Let me see."

Matthew swallowed, his lower back pressing against the metal of the car. He knew he stood no chance against the bigger man if he chose to get violent in his desperate stage. Once again, Matthew had no idea what to do. He had just graduated high school, but school classes didn't teach you what to do in life's tragedies. How did you calm a frantic and lost mind when another even more lost mind was screaming behind you?

Sirens made their way as a miracle to Matthew's ears. Utter relief flooded through his small frame when he heard the loud wails that overpowered the hurting sobs. He turned his violet eyes away from the blue ones in front of him and searched the road, looking for the flashing lights that would make all of this okay.

The tall man used this distraction to his advantage. When Matthew looked away from him the man stepped forward and pushed the other away from the car, ignoring the yelp the smaller man gave. Matthew landed roughly on the ground, tearing his elbow on the rocks as he tried to catch himself. He whipped around immediately only to find that the other man was already looking through the car window.

His eyes grew impossibly wider as they took in what was happening before him. He stared at the sobbing, broken man. At the silent, still boy. Tears flooded his eyes as he felt everything inside him wither in agony. A single sob broke out of his chest before he promptly turned around and emptied his stomach.

Matthew watched from where he was thrown, feeling his own eyes itch. He laid his head on the ground and pushed his glasses onto his forehead when he pressed his palms against his eyes. He hated the useless feeling that filled his chest. He hated not being able to do anything to help these breaking men in front of him. The only thing that kept him going was that the sirens were getting louder.

When they finally arrived the car was surrounded by chaos. At least, that was what it looked like. Thankfully, it was really organized chaos. The yellow suited men knew exactly what they were doing when they led Matthew and the truck driver away from the crumpled mass of metal. Matthew was taken to one of the emergency vehicles and was told to wait there until someone could wrap up his hand. He hadn't even noticed that it had been bleeding profusely for a while now.

He stared blankly ahead of him as the men pried open the stubborn door of the car and carefully dragged the injured man out. He was still choking and sobbing, but it sounded hoarse and weaker than before. He had probably screamed his throat raw. The emergency people talked to him as they moved him out of the car, but he didn't reply to any of them. He didn't move as he was put on a gurney and surrounded by padding so he wouldn't be hurt more as they transported him.

Matthew watched as he was put in the back of one of the vehicles and driven away, but he turned back to the crash site, waiting for the other person to be taken out. He still couldn't accept the fact that that small boy was . . .

Before he saw anything happen one of the emergency medics walked up to him, smiling kindly. He asked for Matthew's hand and started cleaning it when it was offered to him. Matthew gazed at him numbly as he did it, his mind weary from the intense stress it was just put through. It was when the medic was just finishing wrapping the limb up that Matthew remembered the other body in the car. He looked back at the vehicle, but the yellow clad men were packing up.

He looked back at his medic and asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. "The boy. Is he . . . Did he . . . die?"

The medic didn't answer, but Matthew could tell what the answer was by the way the medic's hands stalled for just a moment. Matthew's heart shuddered and he leaned back, closing his eyes. What a terrible, terrible tragedy he had just witnessed. The unjustness of it all. Such a precious and barely used life taken so suddenly, so violently. How could The Lord allow this to happen?

God help the screaming man.

* * *

**...Eh heh. This will...not be a happy story. Some bits and pieces will be light, but... But I hope all of you who enjoy angst and feels will continue to read this! This is actually one of my more developed stories, seeing as I actually know what I want to do with it and have an actual entire plot. What? I'm not just winging it? That's right guys, I have this all planned. This is good news for you, because it means, a: hopefully quicker updates, b: actual development in the story, and c: just overall better quality, at least I'm hoping ^^ I'm very excited for this fic and hope you are too! Pretty sure the next update with be tomorrow. Looking forward to it!**

**Long ANs are long O.o**

**Please review and tell me what your thoughts are so far! What do you think will happen to Gilbert? Are you angry at me for this horrible thing I've done? (Don't worry, I can't believe I did it myself. I'm such a terrible person *cries in corner*) Cries? Feels? Tell me your thoughts because they are wonderful! Follows and favorites also make a writer feel special :3 **

**Have a great day! :D**


	2. The Accusing and the Willing

**Oh hey. Yeah see? I really did it this time guys! It's tomorrow, and here's the update ^^ This chapter isn't much happier than the first...This will remain sad for a while. But! I hope you will enjoy it :)**

**Warning: Mental breakdowns and mentions of blood**

**Again, only one editing here is me. Won't be perfect, so please point out mistakes to me.**

**Song suggestion: "King" by Lauren** **Aquilina. It's very good.**

**Hetalia is still not owned by me. I know, crazy. It didn't change overnight.**

* * *

Gilbert blinked his eyes open and this time all he saw was white. A faint red spotted his vision, but he couldn't remember why his mind was scarred by that color. He tried to blink it away and succeed in getting it out of his main vision, though it still hovered around the edges, tinting everything with that ugly color. He took in his surroundings anyway.

He was in a hospital. That much was obvious even in his confused state. It made him a bit nervous though. Why was he in a hospital? What happened? He couldn't recall much of anything. When he felt panic rise from his stomach he directed his mind away from the missing memories, instead focusing on the small table that stood next to the bed he was lying on.

Waiting on top of it was a plate with simple but good looking food and a glass of water. He wasn't sure if his still churning stomach could handle the food, but the water looked very appealing. Gilbert attempted to shift higher so he could grab it, pushing himself up with his legs, but nothing happened.

His blood ran cold.

He looked down at his blanket covered legs, his eyes wide with fear. Slowly, fearfully, he tried to bend his knee. Sweat broke out on his brow when his leg gave no reply. Not able to push down this panic he threw the blankets aside, revealing his pale, naturally thin legs. He stared at them, searching for some horrible mawing, but they looked fine. Absolutely fine. Why weren't they replying to him if there was nothing wrong?

His breath was starting to become short and he couldn't get the oxygen he needed, making himself light headed. Why weren't his legs working? What had happened to him? _Why weren't his legs working?!_

He barely registered someone else entering the room and coming up next to him. He turned his head as he was hyperventilating, everything tinted even more red now—though not the same red—and tried to look at the newcomer. Did this person have answers? He desperately hoped so. He was lost and he didn't know the way home.

"I'm sorry, I should not have left," a quiet, soothing voice said.

"What happened? Why am I here? Why won't my legs work?!" Gilbert frantically asked with a rough, hoarse voice, focusing on the other voice over his own pounding heartbeat.

Gentle hands touched his shoulder, naturally calming him down slightly. "You need to breathe. Calm down. You were in an accident."

Gilbert let himself be gently pushed back into his pillow. His breathing was slowing down a bit. This girl's sweet voice was helping him keep his focus off of his useless legs. "An accident . . . ?"

As soon as he raised the question it all came rushing back to him. He gasped as visions crashed into his mind. The music blaring out of the radio, his own voice just as loud. Mildly taking note that he was above the speed limit. Flat dirt rolling by out of the windows. The sun glaring down into his eyes. Another smaller, higher pitched voice laughing like an angel. A brief moment of worry for the small boy who he allowed in the front. Shrugging worries off. Turning for just a second to smile at the person he cherished the most.

That same person broken against the roof of his car.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Covering him. Dripping into his eyes. Staining the fading boy.

Shattered glass. Broken windows. Crumpled metal. Destruction. Horror. Death.

All his fault.

It was all his fault.

There was so many things he could've done to prevent this from happening. So many things he ignored that would have made all the difference. He choked on the air in his throat as guilt strangled his heart. If only he hadn't bent so many rules. If only he had _thought_ about what he was doing. Everyone was right. He didn't have a brain.

And because of his incompetence, Otto was dead.

No. No. Nein. _Nein_. He couldn't be. He couldn't be. There was no way that joyful and light-filled boy could be gone. Death could never have power over the light in those eyes. There was simply no way. His little brother had potential. His little brother was going to amount to such greater things than Gilbert ever had. He was one the one who deserved to live. Gilbert's mind could not accept that he would not have that presence in his life anymore. His very being ached at the thought so much that he had to deny it.

"Where is he?" he asked in a low rumble with his eyes closed, barely getting it past his panic attack.

The poor girl had been watching him break down and had no clue how to help him. Her train of thought was thrown off and she struggled with the question. "Who?"

Gilbert gritted his teeth, still not opening his eyes. "My brother," he growled. Anger was the only feeling that didn't hurt. "Where is my brother?"

The nurse's eyes widened when she understood what was being asked of her. Dread filled her veins. How was she supposed to answer? "I-I'll have to talk to the doctor."

"I need to see him." Gilbert's eyes finally opened, looking at the anxious person next to him. She could see just how lost and confused and guilt-ridden those crimson eyes were. They tore through her with just how empty they'd become. "I need to see him right now."

The small blond honestly had no idea what to do. She was new at this. "I'll see what the doctor says."

Before the red eyes could open her up anymore she turned and quickly walked out of the room. Gilbert stayed on his bed, staring at his legs that refused to work. Tears welled up in his eyes but they didn't fall. His mind was plagued by self-hating thoughts that he shut out with denial. His brother couldn't be dead. He didn't kill him. He was still here. He had to be.

The doctor walked in with a stern air, his hands clasped behind his back. Gilbert turned to look at him and felt something like hope, this man would tell him where his brother was.

"Hello," the doctor said with a smooth voice. He seemed practiced and sure of what he was doing. His emerald eyes stared straight into the shaking crimson ones of his patient. "I am Doctor Kirkland, and I—"

Gilbert didn't care about who he was at the moment. He only had one thing consuming his mind. "Where is my brother?"

Doctor Kirkland's eyes became hard, shutting out his emotions so he could say the horrible truth. "Your brother is dead."

Gilbert froze, still staring at the man who healed him. But inside he shut down. His mind stuttered and then collapsed, not able to accept the words spoken to it. His heartbeat pounded to try and make up for the failing brain but his limbs lost their ability to operate. Everything that made him human drained out of him, leaving him an empty husk.

Kirkland continued, the complete silence of the other man making him feel that he had to fill it. "He died instantly, on impact. Broke his neck and was gone. He didn't feel any pain."

But Gilbert didn't hear him. All he heard was a terrible ringing in his ears that sounded too much like the scream of the boy he murdered. His eyes stared hollowly at nothing, seeing nothing but the face of the brother he'd never see again. Never see again. Suddenly his mind started up again, but it came back with a scream. Agony filled his limbs and soul and made him want to scream.

It hurt. It hurt so much. Every fiber of his being screeched with the pain. He needed something else. He was being torn apart and it hurt so badly. He latched on to the first thing he saw that didn't make him want to stab his own eyes out. He grabbed onto fury, and there was only one thing he could aim it at.

His empty gaze on the doctor sparked into a heated glare. His already abused throat caused his first words to be faint. "You're a liar."

Kirkland's eyes saddened at the accusation, but before he could say anything Gilbert exploded.

"You're a liar! A liar!" Gilbert screamed as loud as he could, tearing through his already shredded throat. Tears flooded his eyes but anger filled his veins. "That can't be true! He can't be gone! Bring him back! Let me see him! You lie! You're a horrible person! He's not dead! He's here! He's just waiting for me to come tell him everything's okay! I didn't kill him!"

Kirkland just accepted the screeches aimed at him, knowing that this was the albino's way of dealing with his grief. This wasn't the first time he'd been accused of being a terrible human being. It pained him internally, he felt guilt as well that he couldn't save the child, but he kept his face carefully blank. It was never easy to be the aim of someone's desperate fury, but Kirkland was willing to do it.

Gilbert screamed for a long time. He screamed swears and accusations and for things that were impossible. People came to the door to check what was happening and Kirkland gestured them away. Every word Gilbert yelled came back and stabbed his own heart, because he knew. He was the liar. He knew the truth, he knew his brother was dead. He had seen the face after the crash. The face that had held so much hope so painfully empty. He had seen it. He had been the one who caused it.

His screams dwindled to whimpers, which faded to mumbles that were only aimed at himself. "I need to tell him everything's okay. He must be so scared. I need to sing him to sleep . . . Oh gosh. I killed him."

When he finally admitted what plagued him weariness crashed into him. A fog mercifully covered his mind, though did nothing to stop the pain that seared into his soul. Hot tears trickled down his cheeks as his eyes slowly closed. His mind gave up and he fell into a pain-ridden sleep.

Kirkland watched the man as he faded into the depths of sleep. When he knew for sure that his patient was asleep he gave a heavy, tired sigh. Gilbert's words had stabbed him more than he would like to admit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to collect himself before he went out again. He surveyed the paralyzed person in front of him past his fingers, feeling his heart ache for him. Despite the grumpy mood he usually showed, he connected deeply with each of his patients. This one had it hard.

Releasing another sigh he pulled the white sheets over the pale man and lowered the bed until it was laying flat. There was nothing more he could do until Gilbert woke up. He checked the readings and saw that everything was as balanced and healthy as possible. Everything, that is, that the machines could measure. Kirkland knew that Gilbert's mind was as far away from stable as it could be. He couldn't blame him. He had lost something precious. The blond man knew what that felt like.

After a final check over Kirkland nodded to himself and straightened his white coat. He ran his hand through his hopelessly messy hair, taking one more moment to completely calm down and excuse all the little pricks Gilbert caused. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and walked out of the room.

* * *

**So there ya go...Breakdowns. Fun times huh? (Heavy sarcasm) Yeah. If Gilbert seems OOC for the next few chapters, it's because of what has happened to him. He's not okay (Though I'm still trying to keep him in character with his breakdowns) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please wait patiently for more. They should be coming soon.**

**Oh, btw guys, this story is going to be long. Just so you know. And if you don't know who someone is after I reveal their name, just ask. I will let you know who it is :)**

**Reviews are very much appreciated and make my day. Even if its just one word, please leave one. Love it? Gilbert too OOC (please tell me if he is)? Anything that bugs you? Feels? Please let me know! Following and favoriting are also awesome like Prussia!**

**Have a great day! :D**


	3. Truths and Facades

**All right, another chapter. Yay~ I had some difficulty writing it, but this one is a little lighter than previous ones, so I hope you will enjoy ^^**

**Song suggestion: "Even When I'm Gone" by Quietdrive. Very very good.**

**Please point out any mistakes, I am the only one editing this. Thanks!**

**Still don't own Hetalia**

* * *

The next time Gilbert cracked his eyes open he had no blissful moment of forgetfulness. From the instant he started rising from the black of sleep the aching pain filled his chest. The guilt squeezed his heart and refused to let go. He blinked his eyes clear so he could stare at the ceiling above him. Even though he had just woken up, the emotions wracking his body made him so weary.

He no longer felt anger flooding his system. There was nothing to distract him from the emptiness that clouded his mind. He couldn't find a way through it. He poked and prodded, but it was everywhere. It grabbed hold of him and kept him down beneath its surface, overcoming any resistance he might have had. He was drowning, and he didn't know if he wanted to swim back up.

He heard a click, but didn't turn his head. He couldn't build up the will to look at who was, so he stayed staring at the blank ceiling. He heard a small intake of breath and recognized it as the nurse's from before. Before anything was said the door closed and he was alone again. He gave a slow blink, wondering why she hadn't come in all the way.

Before he could wonder more the door opened once again, this time a heavier yet still light step walking in. This time he did turn his head to meet the bottle-green eyes of his doctor. A blossom of guilt sprouted in Gilbert's chest when he remembered all the awful things he had said to the man, blending with all the other regret that churned within him. He was too tired to do anything about it though.

He took a second to survey the man. He wasn't much older than Gilbert, two years older at the most. Just two years and look at all he accomplished. Yet another example of all Gilbert failed to do in his life. Shoving aside self-disappointment, Gilbert continued his observation. Although the blond man was older, he was shorter and thinner. His emerald eyes were sharp, but had a fatherly quality in them. After he was satisfied Gilbert looked away.

The doctor offered him a small smile that didn't last. "Good day." Gilbert almost scoffed. It would never be a good day ever again. "It's about time you woke up."

"How long have I been out?" Gilbert questioned with a rough voice. It even surprised him how flat it sounded.

Kirkland's eyebrows ticked in ever so slightly in concern when he heard that tone, but he pressed forward. "It has been about two days since the last time you were awake."

Gilbert barely nodded, gazing at the devices that he was hooked to. He wasn't ready for the truth, but nothing could make this pain any worse, so what the heck? "Tell it to me straight, Doc. What happened and what's the damage?"

The blond man stared at his patient for a long time, then sat down on a stool that was next to the white bed. He crossed his legs and set the clipboard he was holding on them, ready to tell the hard story.

He spoke in a factual tone to make this seem as if it happened to someone else and not the person in front of him. "You were in a crash. You were travelling ten miles over the speed limit when a truck ran into the side of your car and knocked you off of the road. You rolled a decent distance before settling on the roof. Inside the car, you and your brother were both wearing seat belts, so you didn't get thrown out of your seat. However, the front airbags failed to eject, so you hit your head on the steering wheel, giving you a concussion. Your front half got jerked around while your legs stayed facing forward and you cracked your lower spine. Your legs have been paralyzed and you have lost some control over your private regions."

This is where the doctor paused. Gilbert had a brief thought about the irony of that last part, but it was quickly dissipated when he realized why his caretaker paused. He closed his eyes when he felt the guilt come to the surface and a single tear rolled down his cheek, but he nodded for Kirkland to continue anyway.

The other man's emerald eyes saddened and he really didn't want to say this. But you had to say a lot of things you didn't want to in this job. "I'm afraid your brother was not saved by his seatbelt. He was sitting in the front seat and was too small for the belt. When the car was being tossed he slid under the belt and hit the front of the car. He snapped his neck and died instantly."

Silence filled the room after the horrible truth was spoken. Gilbert's eyes were still closed and a few more tears spilled out, but they didn't last. He had already worn himself out, he didn't have the energy to do it again. He had already torn himself open for all the world to see. There was nothing left to do it again. He gave a single sob that was trapped in his chest before opening his eyes and looking at Kirkland.

Arthur tried not to show emotion, but was immediately worried when those red orbs landed in him. They were tattered and all the light that made that unnatural color human was torn out. The sparkling crimson was now flat and empty. They were the eyes of someone who saw no reason for living anymore.

Pain filled Gilbert's soul, but he knew that was never going to go away, so he focused on something else. He took his eyes off of Arthur as he shifted slightly. Frustration sparked when he didn't move as far as he wanted to because of his damaged legs.

He didn't look at Arthur when he spoke, still upset and angry. "Can I sit up?"

"Of course," Arthur said before he pressed the button with his foot.

Slowly the bed bent upwards, taking Gilbert with it. He sat up with his arms crossed, upset that he couldn't do this himself. He glared at the guilty legs that were hidden by the blankets. He hated that this happened, but he was also grateful because it gave him something to focus on. It was something to give him a reason to be angry at the world.

"Will I ever walk again?" he asked, still glaring at his useless legs.

Arthur didn't answer for a moment. Instead he looked through papers that were on his clipboard, flipping through them. Then he sighed, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "The break is incomplete. Your spine can still send some signals to the brain, though not nearly enough."

Gilbert slowly looked at him as he continued. "You might be able to walk again because of this. Nothing is certain. The best advantage we can give you is weeks of physical therapy. You may need a brace for the rest of your life, you may not. You may use a cane, you may not. We can't promise anything."

Gilbert nodded, that made sense. Having no certainty was a little disheartening though.

"It's your choice whether you want physical therapy, and when you start once you've recovered enough." With this Arthur uncrossed his leg and leaned forward, studying his pale patient.

"I want to start as soon as I can," Gilbert said immediately. "It's so unawesome to stay in bed all day."

Arthur nodded, writing that down. "All right then. As soon as you're fully recovered from your concussion we will get you started."

Gilbert nodded, satisfied with that, before leaning into his pillows. Now he had something to look forward to and to distract his mind from the gutter it wanted to go to. He closed his eyes and Arthur took this as his cue to leave.

He stood up from the stool, but looked at the albino one more time. "We will do our best to help you have a full recovery, but you will probably be here for a few weeks, maybe longer."

Gilbert nodded again to show he understood.

Arthur nodded back and walked to the door. He reached to open it, but paused right before. He turned slightly back towards Gilbert and spoke with a voice too soft for the other to hear. "I am so sorry for your loss."

* * *

Gilbert was flipping through the channels on his T.V, steadily growing more frustrated when literally nothing awesome was on. He almost chucked the remote at the annoying device in awesome fury. Then his nurse, whose name he learned was Lili, informed him about the movie selection they had. He looked at her like she was an angel and asked for all their Disney movies. She blinked, but then laughed and told them she would get them right away.

Gilbert picked Disney because Otto had loved Disney (certainly Gilbert didn't like it *cough cough*). He didn't realize that tears would pricked his eyes whenever Otto's favorite songs would come on. All he could hear was that small, angelic voice singing along to the characters. Pain pressed on his heart as he went through the movies, but he couldn't stop watching them. This was one of the few things he had left of his brother.

Lili asked if he was all right and he waved her away, offering no explanation. She just accepted that. She had been starting to learn when to press Gilbert and when to leave him be. He was still in a very fragile state. He had just finished Princess and the Frog and started Up when his door burst open and there was a flurry of blonde and brown.

Before Gilbert knew what was happening he was drowning in limbs as arms wrapped around him tightly. Words filled the air as Gilbert began to be suffocated and squeezed past the point of no return. He couldn't understand what was being jabbered to him seeing as he was trying to breathe and not die.

Finally he got his face free and gasped air into his lungs. Once he knew he was safe he looked at the man who was now rubbing his face against his own. It could only be one person, Gilbert would recognize that face fuzz anywhere. He looked to his other side where his arm was being squeezed as if it was going to disappear. He smiled when he recognized the Spanish that was being said.

His friends had come to visit.

"Okay, okay Francis you're crossing into the creepy zone," Gilbert said with a laugh when Francis didn't stop the face rubbing.

Francis pulled away only slightly, smiling at his missed friend. "Apologies, Gilbert. I just haven't seen you in so long. You made me worried sick!"

"Don't you ever do that again!" Antonio said, still clinging to the arm like it was the last churro in the theme park. "I nearly ate through my tomato patch because of you."

Gilbert was touched by their concern, but showing that—his soft side—would be weird for everyone. So he put on the best smile he could muster and tried to pretend he was okay. "Kesese, come on guys. I'm the awesome me. Of course I would be okay!"

Francis and Antonio laughed their signature laughs and Francis rubbed down the silver hair. Discreetly though, they shared a concerned glance. Both of them immediately saw through the act, and they didn't like the fact that it was there or that Gilbert was trying to hide what was underneath. They didn't say anything though, fearing that bringing it up would pain Gilbert.

"We weren't worried about you, you still have all my comic books! You can't leave until I get those back," Antonio joked.

"Oh . . . I didn't tell you? Those might have been accidentally destroyed maliciously." Prussia teased back, putting on a fake grimace with a still fake smirk underneath.

It was easier for all of them to act like nothing was wrong rather than face the awful truth hanging over them like a guillotine. Antonio sat up, acting shocked and hurt. "Gil! You know I love those things! How could you?"

"Hey, I said it was an accident," Gilbert defended. "And it's not like I'll drop them off on your porch when I get out of here or anything."

Francis sat back and watched their playful banter, a small smile playing on his face. But it never grew to his real smile and faded quickly. He hated how forced and small the smile on Gil's face was. He hated how hollow those usually mischievous and life-filled eyes were. The crimson used to sparkle with the love of living, but now they held nothing but . . . nothing. There was a small something there, maybe some happiness at seeing them, but it was nothing compared to the joy they showed before.

His friend was broken. He was cracking and crumbling so much inside and Francis had no idea what to do. He knew Antonio saw it too, but the brunette was trying to ignore it, trying to make it come back. He was trying to do something, while here was Francis, completely useless. Gilbert lost the most important thing to him. How could he be comforted? How could that joy ever be given back to the destroyed man?

Blue eyes travelled down to the legs he had been told about. Legs that could no longer walk. Just another thing to add to the misery that was now their lives.

"Francis!" the word finally made its way to distracted ears.

The frenchman's head jerked up to look at the brunette who had called his name. It took him a moment to process that he had been asked something, and that he had no idea what.

"Hm?" he hummed, pushing away his depressing thoughts.

"Welcome back to reality," Gilbert said, smirking. "Where were you?"

"Do you really want to know?" Francis asked, suggestive eyebrows included with the question.

Gilbert blushed lightly when he realized what France was hinting at and shook his head while Antonio snickered. France grinned and ruffled the adorable albino's hair again. They continued talking and laughing, the two visitors catching Gilbert up on what he had missed. He didn't really miss much, seeing as he wasn't in school and didn't exactly have a job at the moment. They started watching the Disney movies together and sang along loudly to the songs.

Both Antonio and Francis didn't fail to notice the moisture in Gilbert's eyes before he blinked it away when some songs came up. They wanted to help him, to comfort him, but despite being his best friends, they weren't sure what the best thing to do would be. It made them feel horrible. They should know what to do! They just cracked jokes and sung the non-emotional songs even louder, getting their injured friend to laugh.

Eventually Kirkland came in and lectured them about their volume before telling them it was time to leave. There was a lot of groaning and sudden heat between Francis and the doctor when Francis made a flirty remark towards the other. Francis managed to make the usually calm man red in the face and Gilbert and Antonio both feared that a fistfight would break out right there in the hospital room. Antonio finally managed to drag Francis out the door, apologizing to Arthur before they left. After they were gone there was no noise but Arthur's deep breaths as he tried to calm down.

Gilbert slouched into his pillows, letting his act fade as he closed his eyes. He had loved seeing his friends again, but now he felt drained. He couldn't let them see just how much we was cracking, but he knew they had seen through the thin facade he had put up. He would have to work on making a better one, so no one would worry about him. He didn't want them to worry. He didn't deserve it.

He opened his eyes again to see Arthur looking at him. He couldn't read the emotion in the brilliant green eyes, but he didn't like to be under that stare. He didn't really like being stared at at all, despite being loud and asking for attention. Most of the time his attitude brought on annoyed glares aimed at him, and those he could handle. He never knew what to do with praising stares and concerned glances. He felt more comfortable with negative attention than he did with positive attention. Positive attention made him feel . . . Weird.

So he squirmed a little on his bed under his doctor's stare. He knew it wasn't a condescending look, but he didn't know what it was, so he didn't know what to do.

Finally he had to ask. "What?"

Arthur didn't reply for a moment. Then he looked away, choosing to flip through his papers instead. "Nothing." Well, that was hardly a satisfying answer. "Your concussion is almost completely recovered. We'll scan you tomorrow to see just how much. You should be able to start physical therapy this week, if not, next week at the latest."

Gilbert nodded, his fingers starting to mess with his sheets. He had something on his mind, but it was hard for him to voice. He wasn't sure he wanted to know about what was bothering him.

"More people have asked to see you," Arthur told him. "Would you be up for that tomorrow?"

"Sure," Gilbert said, distracted.

"All right, I'll let them come in tomorrow." Arthur noticed the the albino seemed to want to say something and waited for a moment. When nothing was spoken he gave a small shrug and turned, about to walk out of the room.

"Wait, Doc. Um . . ." Gilbert said with furrowed brows. Arthur stopped and waited patiently, looking at his patient expectantly. "Do you know if any of those visitors were . . . My father?"

Arthur blinked, then his eyes saddened. "I don't believe so, no."

Gilbert gave a nod, acting like he was perfectly okay with that. "Has he called at all?"

Arthur already knew the answer, but he took a second to say it. He pressed his lips together, sensing that Gilbert also already knew the answer. "I'm afraid not."

Gilbert nodded again, a small smile on his face that was painful to look at. He mumbled to himself, "Right. Of course. Why would he call? Why on earth would he call? It's not like he cares or anything."

He grabbed the closest thing in arm's reach and chucked it at the wall, which happened to be an apple. Arthur watched as it smashed into the wall, breaking into big pieces. Nurse Lili would have to clean that up. Gilbert was proving to be quite the problem patient, not that Arthur could blame him.

When he turned back to the pale man Gilbert was facing away from him. He was on his side with his arms crossed, glaring at the wall as if it was the core cause of all his problems. Arthur didn't know what to say to comfort him. He obviously had a broken family, but it was none of Arthur's business. So, without saying anything else, he left the room.

Gilbert continued to glare at the wall, feeling his hatred for his father resurface and burn within him. Dang that man. Dang him. His only sons had gotten in a crash—which was no doubt on the news—and he didn't even care! He didn't give a monkey's uncle. He couldn't even be bothered to at least give a call to see what happened or to try and comfort his remain . . . His injured son. How could he be so cold?

Well fine then, Gilbert could play this game too. He didn't need that pathetic excuse of a father. He didn't care for him, he didn't miss him, and he no way in heck yearned for a comforting hug from his strong arms. He would recover from this all on his own and live his life as he dang well pleased. Screw what that man said.

He ignored the tears that stung his eyes as he shoved that face from his mind.

* * *

**T****here you go. Don't know why, but I'm not feeling up to writing all that much here. I just want to say that sorry the chapters have been kinda short, they will get longer. Oh! Also, I will be updating on Mondays, every Monday. Hopefully I can keep that up throughout the story. Thank you for reading and please wait patiently until next Monday :)**

**Reviews encourage me to write guys. Seriously. They make me so happy xD Please tell me your thoughts or guesses or of if anything is confusing or anything! It is very much appreciated. Following and favoriting are also beautiful things.**

**Have a great day! :D**


	4. Normal

**Sorry this is so late guys. I had a camp and then I was lazy :P But here it is! It's a bit of a filler, but it was still fun to write ^^ Hope you enjoy.**

**Song suggestion: "Across the Line" by Linkin Park. Nothing to do with this chapter, but an awesome song xD**

**I do not own Hetalia no matter how much I love it**

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The scans went smoothly, despite Gilbert's annoyance at having to be pushed around in a wheelchair. Now he was back in that bed, bored out of his mind. He had watched more Disney movies in a row than a little girl having a Disney Princess birthday party. They didn't want him to read until they knew he was recovered from his concussion. His iPod got busted in the crash, so he had none of his music either. What was he supposed to do?

He didn't like having nothing to do. His mind had to fill the space, and his mind didn't want to go nice places. Whenever he let it wander he got flashes of before the crash, of the actual crash, and of what he saw after. He was reminded of all the things he could have done differently and how much of an idiot he was. Honestly, why was he still alive? Why was it him who survived out of the two brothers? He didn't deserve to live, never had.

He had to tear himself away from those thoughts, his nails stabbing into his palm. The pain focused his mind on something else and he looked down at the half moons of red. The color made his feel queasy and he had to look away. He tucked the hand under the white sheets, but his mind was now away from the self-hating corner and he tried to stay away.

The door opened, much to his relief, and Arthur stuck his head in. He studied Gilbert and the pale man could feel that his doctor immediately knew that something was wrong. He feared that the blond man would ask what that thing was, and Gilbert didn't really want to answer. But Arthur didn't ask about that, instead he asked, "You up for visitors?"

Gilbert blinked. He had completely forgotten about that. "Oh. Oh, yes! Ja, I am."

Arthur didn't miss the strange urgency that came from his patient, but he simply nodded. "All right, I'll send him in."

"Thank you," Gilbert said with relief clear in his voice.

Arthur left, propping the door open before he did. Gilbert leaned his head back, wondering who the visitor could be. He knew some people from the one year he went to college and had friends, but he didn't feel necessarily "close" to many of them. He tended to annoy people rather than befriend them. As depressing as it may be, he couldn't think of many people who would want to visit him.

Someone walked through the open door and he sat up, ready to greet him. He faltered though when he didn't recognize who was standing there. It was a boy, probably barely an adult. He had dark blond wavy hair that travelled a little past his chin and a strange curl that sprang in front of his face. His eyes were behind glasses, but the odd almost violet color was still evident. He stood with his shoulders bending forward, a white bear (what the?) wrapped snuggly in his arms. Overall, whoever this person was, he was adorable. And Gilbert definately didn't know him.

"Uh, hey," Gilbert said, trying to be friendly to the stranger. "Er . . . How are you?"

"Fine," the younger man said. He seemed distracted, his indigo eyes travelling across Gilbert as if searching for something.

Gilbert once again squirmed under the stare, not sure what was happening. He was really getting sick of being stared at. Crimson eyes travelled to the bear that seemed to be snoozing in the young man's arms. Was it real of stuffed? Gilbert couldn't tell. Why did the kid have it? He seemed a little too old for toys.

He looked back at the boy's face and found him still searching with those odd eyes. Some annoyance started to tick in Gilbert's jaw, but the kid was too cute to get angry at.

"So, um . . . What's your name?" he asked, looking for some sort of distraction away from himself.

The other man blinked, then his eyes sharpened and he gasped a little. He was back. "Oh, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I'm Matthew."

He had walked farther into the room as he spoke and now stood by the chair that had been set up for visitors.

Gilbert nodded his greeting, smiling. "I'm Gilbert. Nice of you to visit me, even if I don't have any idea who you are."

Matthew nodded that he knew who Gilbert was as he set his bear on the chair instead of sitting down himself. "I didn't think you would remember me."

"So we have met before?" Gilbert asked, trying hard to remember. Nothing about Matthew was ringing any bells in him.

Matthew's air saddened a little and his shoulders lowered. "I was the first one to find you after your car crashed."

The air between them seemed to sink, taking them with it. Gilbert looked down, then back up at Matthew, who was still staring at him sadly.

"O . . . Oh." Was all Gilbert could find in his throat.

A heavy silence surrounded the duo as both of the men struggled to keep out the images no one wanted to see. They kept eye contact throughout it, seeing the ghosts of that horrible day flicker in each other's eyes. Gilbert didn't remember seeing Matthew there, but he knew without a doubt that he was. He could see the horror that still scarred the smaller man in those violet orbs.

"I came to make sure you were doing okay," Matthew said softly, breaking their gaze to fix his bear, which had somehow fallen over.

"I'm doing fine," Gilbert immediately assured him, even if it was a lie. "My legs are my only concern now."

Matthew gave him a bit of a stern look, they both knew that's not what he meant when he said "okay". He gave a little sigh when Gilbert looked away and pretended to not notice the look. Matthew decided to let it go, it wouldn't help to push the man.

"Well I'm glad there's nothing too serious," he said. Then he realized, "Wait, what's wrong with your legs?"

Gilbert blinked at him. "The doctor didn't tell you?"

"No. He, um, might have forgotten about me," Matthew said a bit awkwardly, messing with his bear's foot.

"What? No, I'm sure he wouldn't. He's not the kind of guy to forget something like that. I'm sure he just got distracted . . ." Gilbert tried to reassure him, failing a little.

Matthew shrugged, still not looking at the pale man. "It's all right. I'm used to it." Before Gilbert could say something about that Matthew continued, "So, what's wrong with your legs?"

Gilbert looked at said limbs. "They're paralyzed. My spine cracked in the crash and now I can't move my legs."

Matthew looked shocked and his mouth opened, but he didn't know what to say. It closed as he thought and looked at Gilbert sadly. Then he said, "Will you ever be able to again?"

Gilbert nodded, smiling. Someone had to keep the heavy air away. "I'm going to be doing physical therapy for the next few weeks. The Doc isn't sure if it will work, but there's a chance, and everything will be done to help me."

Matthew smiled, relieved for Gilbert. "Well, that's good. I'm sure you'll be up and about in no time."

"Pff, of course I will. I'm too awesome to not walk again," Gilbert replied with his old gusto. Something about this kid made him feel . . . Lighter. More hopeful. He liked it.

Matthew smiled at Gilbert, happy that the man seemed to have some hope for himself. They then both steered away from the touchy subjects and started talking about normal things. Gilbert learned that Matthew had just graduated from high school and that he planned to go to college to become a veterinarian. Matthew learned the Gilbert dropped out of school after one year of college and hopped from job to job. (Gilbert avoided saying that he did this so he could take care of Otto, but Matthew picked it up).

It felt nice, talking about normal things like normal people. Gilbert didn't feel as . . . different. As trapped. He felt normal, as if nothing was wrong with him. He was like everyone else. He'd never felt like that before. Even before the crash, his condition had never allowed it. Even though most people were polite about it, he still felt their stares when he walked out of normal places. His red eyes and pale hair were not natural, and people reacted to unnatural things. Sometimes not so nicely.

Gilbert claimed that his albinism was part of his awesome and he acted like he didn't care about the stares, but he did. They got under his skin, even if he didn't want them there, and always stayed with him. He never showed the scars they created, but they were riddled under the surface. He'd never felt normal. His father certainly hadn't helped.

But here, with Matthew, he did. Matthew didn't show any sign of horror at his blood colored eyes and didn't stare at him for odd lengths of time. Gilbert's friends didn't either, but this was the first time a stranger didn't show any signs whatsoever on the first actual meeting. It was rather refreshing, and Gilbert liked not being the center of someone's condescending stare. For once in his life he felt like he belonged somewhere. Matthew made all his problems disappear. At least for a moment.

Matthew eventually had to leave. Something about his brother probably getting into some fight. Gilbert nodded, he didn't want Matthew to leave, but the other had a life he had to get to. Matthew said goodbye, promising he'd visit again, before walking out. Gilbert sat back and closed his eyes, thinking he could rest, but it wasn't long before he was hug-tackled once again.

The rest of his trio, The Bad Friend Trio (as they had named themselves), had arrived with everything a person stuck in bed could need. They brought all the action and chick-flick movies in existence it seemed, so much junk food it would make a fat man cry, an iPod with all of Gilbert's old songs on it (how they did this is unknown, and it kinda creeped Gilbert out, especially when Francis just winked when he asked about it), and much more.

They all piled into his bed, you-know-who making Gilbert blush with how awkward he made it. They put on the cheesiest chick-flick of the bunch and made poor, sweet Nurse Lili pop some popcorn for them. Basically, they did all they could to distract Gilbert so he literally couldn't think about what had happened or his problems. His mind was so full of their craziness that nothing else had room to take his attention.

They had gotten through two movies before Arthur demanded that the had to leave, they were disturbing the other patients. All three friends complained as Antonio and Francis took their own sweet time getting out. Arthur's fist very nearly made violent contact with Francis's nose before the Spaniard rushed the smirking blond out of the room. Gilbert tried to hold in his snickers as Arthur tried to calm down, but failed. His unique chuckle burst from his lips as he bent forward, holding his stomach. It was just so funny seeing the usually collected man lose his temper so quickly. His face got so red.

Arthur glared daggers at him, which only succeeded in making Gilbert's laughter increase. Arthur adjusted his white coat and ran a hand through his hair (which refused to get any neater), finally back to his normal self. Gilbert was calming down slightly, but he still had to bite his lip to hold back the snickers when he looked at the blond man. Arthur stared at him levelly, not hiding his annoyance at his patient as he waited for him to calm down. Gilbert finally did under that stare, swallowing down the last of the (manly) giggles and looking away.

Arthur sighed, a ghost of a smile gracing his features despite his best efforts. Seeing Gilbert having fun just made you happy. His grin was contagious. "We've gotten your results from the scans."

This caught all of Gilbert's attention immediately and he sat up straighter. "And?"

Arthur took his time flipping through his papers, enjoying Gilberts apprehension maybe a little too much. "Everything is fine. You no longer have a concussion and you can start physical therapy as soon as you wish."

Gilbert gasped in relief before giving a whoop of excitement. "Right now! Can I start right now?"

Arthur gave a chuckle at Gilbert's reaction. The albino could be so childish sometimes, it was rather entertaining. He honestly wanted to to see the man before he had the devastation hanging on his shoulders. "I'm afraid it's a little too late today. But we can start you first thing tomorrow, as soon as our therapist is free."

"You already know which one you want to work with me?" Gilbert asked curiously.

"We have a very talented and successful group of therapists working at this hospital," Arthur answered, "but we do have one that is especially talented. He has . . . unique methods that surprisingly work very well. I think he will be the best for you."

Gilbert's eyebrow rose. "'Unique methods'?"

Arthur just smirked. "You'll see."

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**Matthew is so cute x3 I love him. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Update will be next Monday**

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	5. Maybe

**It's Monday! Here you guys go! Hope you enjoy!**

**Warning: Nightmares, mental breakdowns**

**Song suggestion: "Europa" by Globus. Awesome**

**Hetalia is still not mine, no matter his much I torture the poor characters.**

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_"Bruder, what makes you so awesome?" the young boy asked with innocent curiosity. _

_ Gilbert stopped slamming the nail into the wall, looking down at his brother with shock. He was higher up than Otto, especially so now as he was standing on a ladder, so Otto had to crane his neck to look up at Gilbert._

_ "What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, still staring down at the small blond._

_ "Well, you're always saying that you're awesome, but why? What makes someone awesome?" Gilbert could tell that the boy had honestly been wondering about this for a long time now, and who better to answer than his all-knowing big brother?_

_ Gilbert thought about the question for a second, considering his answer. He had to take this as a serious question. Then he stepped down the latter and took the can of nails out of Otto's hands, setting them aside. He gently led the boy by the back of his head, taking him to the steps of their porch. He sat down and set Otto next to him, laying an arm over his small shoulders._

_ "There are two different kinds of awesomeness, kleiner bruder," he started after giving it some thought, "there is the fake awesome, which is, unfortunately, the kind you most see. But then there's real awesome. Do you know the difference?"_

_ Otto shook his head, captivated by his brother's tone. His light blue eyes were wide and light filled._

_ "Real awesomeness is the kind we should try to have," Gilbert continued, gazing off into the distance. "Being truly awesome means that you do things for others when you don't need to. It means you sacrifice yourself for those you love. Protect them till the end. It means you never give up, no matter how hard it gets."_

_ He hugged his brother to his side, grinning down at him. "Being truly awesome is what makes us happy, in the end."_

_ "Then are you going to be sad, bruder?" Otto asked, his voice gaining a darker tone that didn't belong there._

_ Gilbert looked at him, his grin faltering. "What?" _

_ "You failed, bruder," Otto said, not looking at him. Everything around them was going deathly still as he spoke, as if he was sucking the life out of them with his words. "You're not awesome."_

_ For some reason Gilbert's heart was beginning to pound. His hand slowly lifted away from his brother's shoulder as he backed away. He was scared. He was terrified. Why was his heart beating so painfully? This was his brother! Why did his chest hurt so much?_

_ "Otto. Otto, what are you taking about?" he managed to voice, though now he wasn't so sure he wanted to know._

_ Otto slowly turned to look at Gilbert, but it wasn't him. He wore an expression on his face that made Gilbert's blood run cold. Nothing but hatred shone through those icy, icy blue eyes. Pure hatred aimed straight at Gilbert. And Gilbert knew why it was there. It was his own hatred. His own coming through those eyes._

_ "You killed me." The words were softly spoken, but the accusation was mind shattering. It was said with nothing but hatred and guilt tore Gilbert apart._

_ "You killed me!"_

Gilbert woke up with a gasp, with that horrid horrid sentence still screaming in his ears and his view overcome by a face. He shoved the person in front of him away harshly, clawing to get up, to get away, to run into a hole and bury himself in it. He didn't go as fast as he wanted to, in fact, he didn't move at all. He wanted to run but he couldn't. He was trapped. Trapped and he had to get out. Out. Out.

Someone was yelling at him, but he couldn't remember if it was actually someone or Otto screaming. Suddenly hands were gripping his shoulders, stopping his frantic movements. Panic seized Gilbert and he shoved himself away from the grip, but it just came back even tighter. It was trying to keep him down, to keep him trap. Why? Why would it do that? Why couldn't it just let him run away from all of this? Run and never come back.

He continued to struggle against the hold, gasping and choking but not managing words. For some reason he couldn't see, all he saw was watery red and black. The more he pushed against the hands the tighter they wound around him. Slowly but surely they began hinder his movements. He still desperately shoved at what he somewhat registered was a chest, punching and clawing it. He didn't want to be held, he didn't want to be comforted, all he wanted to do was jump in front of that truck so it couldn't touch Otto. All he wanted was for Otto to be here, even if it meant he wasn't.

Suddenly something grabbed the back of his head and forced his face into something solid but soft. His fists stopped hitting long enough to feel what he was being held against, and he realized it was a shoulder. Someone was offering a shoulder to him, him. The last person on the planet to deserve it.

He stilled, his fists no longer swinging, his guilty hands no longer causing more bruises. He sat there for a moment with his face pressed into the fabric, his eyes wide. Then the tears that had already been pouring gushed out of him and he sobbed into that shoulder. He gripped onto the front of the shirt and sobbed. He choked and gasped out his frustration, his sorrow, his guilt, his overwhelming want to just disappear. He let it all out onto that shoulder, staining it with all his misery.

The owner of the shoulder simply held him. He didn't try to talk to him, he didn't rub comforting rings on his back, he simply held him. He let him pour out everything in him and supported him as he fell apart. And that was all Gilbert needed. If anything more was done to try and comfort him he would have denied it. He simply needed someone holding him up, making sure he wasn't going to fall into the pit he could never return from.

Eventually he wore himself out. He ran out of tears to shed and his chest felt ragged from all the sobs. His hands fell away from the shirt and he leaned heavily into the shoulder, losing the energy to hold himself up. Gently the hands took his shoulders and sat him back against his pillows. This is when Gilbert found out who the volunteer was.

His eyes widened at emerald ones as Arthur sat up, getting off of the bed. He didn't know who he was expecting, but his doctor was definitely lower on the list. He hardly knew the guy, why would he comfort an almost total stranger so willingly? He stared at the man as he adjusted himself, fixing the stethoscope around his neck and straightening his coat. He looked at Gilbert, and much to Gilbert's shock, he gave him a gentle smile.

Gilbert blinked, not used to being shown such kindness. "Doc . . . ?"

Arthur looked forward and began to act as if nothing happened. "You were having a nightmare. I heard your machines beeping as your heartbeat went up and came in to check on you."

It went unsaid about how he saved the albino from spiraling into self-destruction, but the way Gilbert stared at the blond was enough.

"You have people wanting to visit," he continued. "I can tell them you're not up for it today and-"

"Nein!" Gilbert called out, making Arthur blink. "N-No, I . . . I want to see them."

Arthur stared at him in suddle shock for a second before slightly nodding. "All right, I'll send them in."

"Thanks . . . for everything," Gilbert said, his words weighted.

Arthur paused at the door, looking back at his patient. They met eyes for a moment, a new connection forming. Arthur wasn't used to this connection. He felt the moist cold on his shoulder from the other's tears. Even he was surprised that he had jumped in so willingly to help Gilbert. Why had he done it? . . . Whatever the reason, it must be good.

He smiled slightly, nodding, before walking out. Gilbert laid there, staring up at the ceiling, just letting his mind go blank because he didn't want to think about anything. Too much stuff was happening too quickly, he needed something repetitive to fill his mind. Something he could rely on to happen constantly, so he could have confidence in it. That's why he wanted the visitors to come, but he hoped Arthur would still let him start his therapy today.

"Gil!" he heard his name somehow breathe-shouted.

His eyes widened when he recognized that voice and his head snapped to look at the women standing in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, but she still had those flowers pinned just above her ear. She didn't look to be wearing much makeup, but was beautiful anyway. Even more so, Gilbert loved it when she didn't wear makeup. Her sparkling green eyes looked at him with relief and regret and fear and joy and wow, she didn't hold back. She had never held back her emotion, throwing herself for the world to see, not afraid to be hurt. Gilbert had missed seeing this amazing face.

"Liz?" he exclaimed, not believing she was here.

She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him. His eyes widened in shock, not sure if he should embrace her back or if this was really happening or if he should push her away or what. He and her had a . . . complicated relationship. They had been childhood friends, and when they got older they weren't sure if they were still just friends or something more. They dated on and off, sometimes a real thing, sometimes not. Eventually they decided to just see what happens, to not push it.

But Gilbert had figured out how he felt about her. The way she made him stutter and say things he regretted later was something only she could do. His heart pounding and cheeks flushing was not something he could ignore. He always stared at her for too long and had the constant need to stroke her beautiful chocolate hair. Yes, as much as he denied it, he knew what he wanted them to be.

Then, shortly before the crash, she had gotten engaged. To Gilbert's cousin, nonetheless. And to Gilbert's surprise . . . he was okay with that. Sure, it hurt. Sure, he hadn't talked to either of them for a while, but he realized that she deserved someone better than him. She deserved someone who could treat her how she deserved to be treated. He didn't know if Roderich deserved her, but Elizaveta loved him, and he loved her back. She deserved someone who loved her just as much as she loved him.

Gilbert would be the supporting best friend. He could do that.

Well, then the crash happened.

And now here they were.

"Oh Gil," she said into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Eventually he decided to hold her back, more for her sake than for his. He looked up when he heard someone else step in, making eye contact with his cousin. Roderich nodded at him, his eyes filled with sadness. Gilbert wasn't used to seeing that expression on the prissy man's face, nor to having Elizaveta have tears for his sake. He didn't like it. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

So he put on his usual grin, trying to act normal. "Heh, sorry for what? I'm awesome! There's nothing to worry about."

Elizaveta pulled away and gave him a pouty glare. Roderich sighed, knowing Gilbert well enough to see right through that mask. It upset him to see Gilbert, the man in most pain, being the one to act like everything was okay for their sakes. Gilbert was so stupid in so many countless ways. Couldn't he worry about himself for once?

Before anything more could be said by the duo visiting, Gilbert continued. "But how are you here? Didn't you guys move across the country?"

"Well, yes. We did, but when we heard about what happened we had to come back and see you," Elizaveta answered.

"Kesese, I knew I was too awesome for you to stay away," Gilbert laughed with a wink. It may have been forced, but it still felt good to say something that he used to say so often.

Roderich rolled his eyes and Elizaveta felt the long-missed urge to hit Gilbert with something hard. The feeling dissipated though when her eyes landed on his covered legs. Even if she could hit him with a cooking instrument, it wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't be able to run away. Now he wouldn't be able to get her out of bed by playing his guitar super loud. They wouldn't be able to fight with water guns outside her house. She would never get to see his infuriating grin grow smaller as he ran away from her ever again . . .

"Elizaveta," Roderich said gently, taking her shoulders.

She blinked out of her train of thought and looked up at her fiancé. He nodded that he felt sad about it too, but then gestured his head at Gilbert. She turned to see the albino looking away from them awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with how Elizaveta was staring at his useless limbs. Ah, now she felt bad. She knew Gilbert didn't like people worrying about him, or having his problems shoved in his face.

Before she could offer some sort of apology Gilbert began to speak, still looking at the wall. "I'm going to be taking physical therapy. They says there's a chance that they'll work again, so there's no point in getting all worked up over it . . ."

Elizaveta blinked, before laughing and waving her hand. "Of course, you're right. And you're so hard headed anyway that you would force your legs to work for you even if they did refuse." Her laughs turned into a smirk. "Especially since you have to run away from me."

Gilnert bristled, then turned to look at her with an angry grin. "Oh, is that what you think I'm doing? Huh, well I may be running away, but it's only because your face is just too hideous to be around."

She glared at him. "Maybe I'll make yours more so by hitting it a couple of times. Oh, too late."

"Hmph, I'm surprised he can even stand having that face," Roderich chimed in, leaning against the wall. "I wonder if he has any mirrors left. Must be expensive to repair them all."

Gilbert turned his annoyed grin to Roderich. "Oh, the fiancés are ganging up on me now?" He leaned closer to Elizaveta. "Sorry, he won't be much help. He's too prissy to put any effort into anything." He patted her hand. "Have fun with all the house chores."

She did try really hard not to smile as Austria's glare sparked, but it was very difficult. The insults went on for a while, slowly escalating as the three knew no bounds with each other. Elizaveta was very near to throwing her purse at the albino, (Roderich wouldn't have stopped her), but just then Nurse Lili walked in. Her eyes widened when she saw the hostility in the room and the three causing it paused. The nurse's soft words and frantic movements caused all three to calm down and stop moving. Gilbert and Elizaveta couldn't compete against her adorableness, and though Roderich didn't share their intense love for cute things, there was just something about this girl that he found endearing.

"I'm afraid Mr. Beilschmidt needs to start his physical therapy now," Lili explained. "I'm going to have to ask you two to leave now."

Roderich nodded and thanked her. "Can we get just one more moment to say goodby?"

She nodded, smiling a small smile. "I will go get Dr. Braginsky."

He smiled at her as she walked out before turning back to Gilbert. They were all calmer now, the heat between them having cooled down thanks to Lili. Elizaveta took Gilbert's pale hand, squeezing it. He blinked, and after a moment squeezed lightly back.

"If anyone could get through this, Gilbert, it's you," she told him, staring at him with emotion filled eyes. "You're the strongest man I know."

Gilbert stared at her, not used to compliments aimed at him coming out of those lips. He wasn't good in situations he wasn't sure of, so he reverted to his jokes.

He smirked, looking at Roderich. "Here that, big guy?"

Roderich rolled his eyes and Elizaveta softly smacked his hand. "Can you ever stop being an idiot?" Roderich asked. Before Gilbert could come up with a come back the dark haired man's eyes softened and he stepped forward, taking his cousin's shoulder. "She's right. You are strong."

Gilbert stared again. Another compliment. Who would've thought? He felt something in him grow warm, something rusty and underused, but waiting. It felt good. He liked it. He felt a small but real smile grow on his lips, and he aimed it at them.

"Thank you." Two small, simple words he really should say more often. They tasted sweet.

They both seemed shocked for a moment, but then smiled. Elizabeta gave him a hug and Roderich squeezed his shoulder comfortingly before they left. Gilbert stared after them, breathing in a content sigh. The despair was still hanging in his heart, but they had lifted it, made it something good. Maybe he could get through this. Maybe.

Then Lili walked through the door, leading a man in behind her who had to duck his head slightly to get in. Gilbert's eyes widened at the size of the man. He was nearly twice as tall as Lili! If he ever hugged her she would be forever lost in his size. Seeing the two next each other just emphasized the differences of their heights. The man was huge.

The tall one smiled down pleasantly and said with an accented voice, "Thank you, Lili. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave, I need to talk privately with the patient."

Lili nodded, smiling back at the man. She turned to nod at Gilbert before stepping out. The man then turned his smile to Gilbert, who could just stare. Despite the man's size he had a childish, round face that seemed cheerful. His hair was a very light blond and his eyes had violet hue to them, much like a certain few people Gilbert knew. Gilbert for some reason could just not register that this man was here, staring at him.

The man sat down on the waiting chair, apparently not feeling self-conscious with Gilbert's stare at all. "Hello. My name is Dr. Ivan Braginsky, and I will be your physical therapist."

Gilbert's stare shifted to the big hand that was being offered to him, and finally he got over his initial shock. He took Ivan's hand and shook it firmly, though his pale fingers almost got lost in the other man's. Ivan then pulled away and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.

"To begin I usually would ask you what happened, but this time I decided to take the liberty myself," he smiled. "No need to bring up painful memories."

Gilbert breathed in relief, nodding his thanks. He didn't want to remember that right now, even if it was always lingering in the back of his mind. Eating away at him.

"So, what we are going to start with is seeing how just how hopeless you are," Ivan said cheerfully.

Gilbert blinked. "Excuse me?"

Ivan just smiled and pointed at his sheet-covered knee. "Bend it."

Gilbert gave him the 'you're an idiot' look he was so good at. "I can't. That's the point of you."

Ivan rested his arms on the armrests and his gaze hardened, though his expression never changed. "Bend it."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at the tall man. Even though he was the one demanding the task, Ivan looked as if he doubted Gilbert could do it. This ticked Gilbert off. He felt an old, stubborn fire respark within him. He hated it when people doubted him, especially when they didn't even know him. He was going to show Ivan, shove it in his face.

He turned his angry glare to his useless knee. As he glared at the stubborn joint he willed it to work. He tried to remember every muscle he used to move it before and trigger it now. He pushed as hard as he could, but still the knee did not bend. Eventually he gave up, the breath he was unconsciously holding bursting out from him. He looked up at Ivan, panting.

Ivan just stared back at Gilbert, looking unimpressed. He still wore that smile, but now it was mocking Gilbert for what he failed to do. It had that know-it-all tone that Gilbert hated so much. His crimson eyes sparked as he looked at the leg again.

He tried even harder this time. He could remember bending his knee so well. He could remember running, dancing, chasing, playing sports, interacting with the people he loved. He remembered being able to move. Able to live. He had done it a hundred times! Why couldn't he do it now? It was so frustrating.

He was ready to give up again. What was the point? His spine was fried, and who even really cared? But then, right before he gave in, Ivan laughed. It was just a quiet, short laugh, but it was filled with contempt, with scorn. He acted as if he knew Gilbert wouldn't be able to do it the whole time. As if Gilbert was too pathetic to ever pull it off.

This pushed Gilbert over the edge. He gritted his teeth and growled at the refusing limb, taking out his annoyance on it. He pushed his damaged nerves so hard he was pretty sure he was just making them worse, but he refused to stop. He was going to show this pompous jerk why he shouldn't judge others. He was going to show him that he could do something. He was strong. He was not worthless. No matter how wasteful he'd been in his life so far, he was going to change that and show the world that he deserved to be alive. He was not a waste of space. He was human. He had as much right as anyone. He's going to show all of them!

He only realized something happened when Ivan cheered and started to clap his hands. The applause snapped Gilbert out of his thoughts. He looked at Ivan, who smiled proudly at him, not at all like the smile he wore just moments before. Why was he so excited? When Ivan saw the question in Gilbert's yes he gestured his head toward the albino's leg. Slowly, Gilbert turned to look, his eyes opening wide.

His knee moved.

It wasn't a huge movement, his knee only bent an inch or so, but it moved. Gilbert made his useless leg work. His spine was cracked and he bent his knee. He did it.

He really did it.

"I knew you could do it," Ivan said, patting him as he smiled happily.

Gilbert stayed in a moment of shock for just a second longer, but then a grin cracked open his lips and he cheered. He pumped his fist and looked at the ceiling, feeling the victory surge through his veins. He could do this. He could totally do this!

Ivan smiled happily at Gilbert's celebration, leaning back and crossing his legs again. He popped his pen open and began to write something on his paper. Gilbert, still feeling elated, paused in his cheering to narrow his eyes at the big man. He didn't miss the sudden change of moods Ivan went through.

"You meant to do that, didn't you?" he asked.

Ivan didn't even look up from what he was writing. "Do what?"

"You know exactly what," Gilbert accused.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Ivan said, but he did give Gilbert a mischievous smile before he changed the subject. "Here's the plan: Since now I know that you have the will to recover, we're going to push you. Everyday we'll do at least two hours of therapy, and we'll keep going until I say we're done."

Gilbert had a bad feeling where this was going.

His bad feeling only increased when Ivan met eyes with him and smiled almost evilly. "The only way this is going to work, Gilbert, is if you do exactly as I say."

This immediately didn't ring well with Gilbert. He hated listening to orders. He could tell that Ivan knew this, and he noticed that it almost seemed to please the man to make Gilbert do something he hated. Maybe that was just Gilbert though.

Ivan smiled pleasantly at him, the evil tone gone. "Okay?"

Gilbert scowled, but didn't see how he could argue. Ivan knew the best way to get his limbs working after all. "Fine."

"Good," Ivan approved, making Gilbert's scowl deepen. "We're going to start with simple standing. I'll have you rolled to our physical therapy room so you can use the bars we have there. Once you can stand from the chair we'll start you walking. Sound good?"

"I have to do what you say, don't I?" Gilbert asked bitterly.

"Excellent. You are smart." Gilbert bristled, but stopped himself from saying anything back. This man was just looking for trouble.

Ivan stood, smiling with a satisfied air. "We'll start tomorrow. I'm looking forward to working with you, Gilbert."

"The feelings mutual," Gilbert replied, nodding.

Ivan nodded back before walking out. Gilbert stared after him, his eyes narrowing again. This was either going to be the most satisfying thing he'd ever do, or the most torturous. His eyes became determined.

Working together with Ivan, they'd make it both.

* * *

**I am going to have way too much fun with Ivan xD Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. It's so long! Longer than my other ones, anyway. And I apologize to PruHun fans out there but . . . It's not happening in this fanfic. (I'm actually a PruHun fan myself, but this happened so) Please wait patiently till next Monday, thank you.**

**Please, leave me your thoughts! I love hearing from you guys it seriously makes my whole day. Feels? Laughs? Something bother you? Tell me in a review! Favorites and follows also make me very happy :)**

**Have a great day! :D**


	6. Desperate Stupidity

**...I'm sorry. I know it's been a while. This took longer than it should have. I have a lot of time on my hands, but no motivation to write :P It kind of sucks. But! Here it is! I hope you enjoy it.**

**Song suggestion: "Waiting for Superman" by Daughtry. It's so good!**

**Hetalia still doesn't belong to me. Weeks between updates does not change that, sorry.**

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"_More_ visitors?" Gilbert asked not long after Ivan left.

"Yes," Arthur replied, wondering why he sounded so shocked. "Is that okay?"

"Oh yeah, it's fine. Just . . ." He trailed off.

Arthur raised a brow. "Just . . . ?"

"I just . . . didn't think I'd have this many," Gilbert finished, glancing away from Arthur.

Arthur was surprised by that answer, and saddened. However, before he could say anything Gilbert immediately made it harder to feel bad for him. "Well, of course, I am awesome. Who wouldn't want to see me?"

Arthur no longer resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he did it loud and clear for his patient to see. It just made Gilbert grin.

"I'll go get him then," Arthur said, turning. "Don't let your 'awesomeness' scare him away. Though, I doubt it could. His ego is almost as big as yours."

Gilbert scoffed. "Not possible."

Arthur smirked when at the door. "I said 'almost'."

Gilbert laughed as Arthur walked out. As he sat there fiddling with his sheet and seeing if he could bend his knee again—which he couldn't. He needed Ivan's infuriating face again—he didn't have to wait long before there was commotion outside his door. There was a crash and someone yelled something that sounded somewhat like "You'll regret it!", which was cheery. Prussia sat up a little more just as the door banged open.

A tall man came crashing in, ignoring the other voice's warning entirely. He stood just inside the room, catching his breath and keeping his eyes pointed towards the hall. His blond hair was wild, but Gilbert didn't know if that was from the fight or just naturally like that. A little hat was somehow sitting comfortably in the light locks.

Another blond man appeared in the doorway, his worried and frustrated glare aimed at the tall one. His platinum blond hair was much more tame than the other's, with a clip on the side, keeping his bangs back. It looked like there was a weird curl floating off of the side of his head, but before Gilbert could be sure the door was slammed in the second man's face.

Gilbert blinked and looked at the first man, thoroughly confused by this point. His blue eyes were now studying the wall, conflicted and scared but building up determination. Gilbert wondered what had these two men so worked up. Once the man built up enough courage he looked at Gilbert, where it immediately shattered. His eyes scrunched as complete guilt overcame his face. Gilbert was completely bewildered by this point. Who the heck was this guy?

"Uh . . . Hi," he tried, not quite sure what to do.

The man stared at him, slowly breaking down bit by bit. Then he stepped forward and deflated into the chair. He bent forward and put his hands in is wild hair. Before Gilbert could say anything else to try and lift the heavy air the man spoke.

"I was the one who hit your car."

Gilbert froze. His now wide eyes stayed glued to the man in front of him. The air grew even heavier, dragging them both down to places no one wanted to be.

"It was me," he repeated, the words attaching to him and weighing him down low. So low.

Gilbert felt something in him beginning to rise to the surface. Something bitter, but it almost felt like hope. It might have been closer to relief, but it still felt shallow. Despite that, Gilbert latched onto it, to this almost relief, this false hope. Here he was. The man who shared responsibility for the horrible deed. Who shared the guilt. Gilbert finally had someone to hate besides himself.

The man looked up at Gilbert, his eyes moist and searching, almost pleading. They might have broken Gilbert's heart if he wasn't so distracted by these other feelings.

The man spoke again. "I came to ask for forgiveness. I know—"

"No," Gilbert felt the word come out of his mouth like a fiery curse. It was automatic, his feelings overwhelming him.

The man's voice stuttered to a halt as he looked at Gilbert with pure devastation. Gilbert felt some guilt and regret trying to shiver their way into him, but he was so sick of those emotions. He was so tired of wanting to just disappear. That didn't mean it would go away, it would never do that, but he needed something else. He _needed_ something to relieve all his self-attacking thoughts. He _needed_ to blame this man.

"This is all your fault," Gilbert continued, softly at first as the horrible feelings he held boiled. As they rose his voice did with them.

"Everything, everything is your fault." The man was shrinking, being cut down with every word. "I will never forgive you! You're to blame! You're the only one to blame! This—" he gestured to his useless legs. "—is your fault! His—" This is where he faltered. His breath rushed out of him and he looked down. He couldn't push away the truth of that fact. That . . . That was only his fault. "His . . ."

He glanced back up at the other man, wincing slightly. The blonde looked utterly and completely shattered. He sat there in that chair hunched forward, his eyes staring hollowly ahead as if everything in them had been gutted out. Gilbert couldn't handle the guilt he felt overflow his eyes, so he pushed it down with that bitter tasting anger and hard-heartening hatred. His stare turned into a glare he knew was doing neither of them any good, but he couldn't stop it.

The man met eyes with him, his a severe contrast with Gilbert's. His soft blue were breaking and flooding, dripping down tears like rain. While Gilbert's crimson were hard and fiery, refusing to let anything else through. They stared at each other for a long time, not saying anything, just breaking down in their own ways.

Eventually the door opened and the same blonde haired man with the clip from before walked in. He took a moment to assess the situation, but seemed to already know. He paced over to the lanky man and gently helped him out of his seat, the whole time not looking at Gilbert. The other man didn't fight, his eyes just stared blankly forward. Together the two friends walked through the door, the clipped one pausing just long enough to give Gilbert a glance of righteous anger. Then they were gone.

That look stabbed into Gilbert, but not as much as what Gilbert saw from Arthur in the second before the door close did.

Disappointment was shining in those emerald eyes.

Gilbert turned away from the door, from the people, from everything. So many different things swirled inside of him and he didn't know which one he hated the most. He felt tears flood his eyes and decided that they were the things he despised most. He scrubbed at them, trying to get rid of them, but they kept coming. He took his pillow and smashed it against his face. The fabric became wet and soon he couldn't tell if he was still crying or not, but he kept it pressed against him. Noises of frustration began to escape his throat, muffled by the pillow. What was this life? What was the point? Why was he here and not . . .

"I think you regret it," a tired voice said out of nowhere.

Gilbert's eyes snapped open and he whipped around. There was a new person in the room, sitting in a wheel chair next to the visitor chair. He was on the older side of the human life, maybe forty something, and had wispy white hair pulled back into a ponytail. His intelligent blue eyes saw straight into Gilbert, which immediately made the albino defensive.

"What?" he asked with venom in his voice.

The man wasn't phased in the slightest. "What you did was stupid and unnecessary, and I'm pretty sure you know it."

Gilbert did not like having his own inner thoughts shoved in his face, and he was still fired up from everything. "Shut up. What do you know?"

"I know that you're better than this," the man stated, completely calm and completely serious.

This caught Gilbert off guard. He blinked, his anger falling away as he stared at the man in shock. Better? Better than what he had become? Yeah right.

"I know you can't see it now, and probably won't for a while, but you're an impressive kid. You have potential. I believe you can recover from this." The man smiled. It was a gentle, understanding smile. Like a father's.

Gilbert continued to stare at him. The words sounded foreign to him, as if the man wasn't even speaking English. Someone . . . thought he had potential? After all he had done? How could anyone think that now? He couldn't say he felt the same, but . . . it did feel nice to have someone who did think that.

"Who are you?" he asked, the only question simple enough for him right now.

The man's smile turned more cheerful and friendly as he dipped his head in greeting. "My name is Frederick. It's nice to meet you."

Gilbert nodded slightly in return. "Gilbert. Uh, how did you know . . . ?"

"I hope you don't mind me listening in to your . . . events," he answered. "I'm just across the hall and, as I'm sure you've noticed, this isn't the most exciting place."

Gilbert nodded his head a little in agreement. There was way too many empty moments in this hospital.

"And you and your visitors have been . . . entertaining, to say the least," Frederick continued, smirking a bit.

Gilbert looked at Frederick, a little offended. He stare turned into a small glare, but even that didn't hold up when Frederick started laughing. It was a bit breathy due to strained lungs, but it was joyful, still so full of life. He sounded truly happy, a sound Gilbert hadn't heard since a certain child. It invited Gilbert to be happy with him, but Gilbert wasn't ready to take that hand yet.

He wasn't quite sure what he was ready for anymore. He didn't know what he wanted to do with himself. He felt too tired to cry but not worthy enough to smile. So he just stared at Frederick, no words finding their way into his throat for one of the first times in his life. He kind of sunk down into his bed, feeling heavy and horrible.

Frederick's smile changed into a concerned frown when he saw Gilbert deflate. He shifted on his chair, wincing just a little at the old discomfort, and reached out to take Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert stared up at the older man, feeling small and lost. Frederick squeezed that shoulder gently, letting the poor kid know he would be there for him without saying anything. Gilbert's eyes gained some light and he decided he liked this man.

Frederick pulled away after that, still smiling. "I have to go now. Appointments and life are calling."

Gilbert couldn't help but sadden a little, but he nodded. He still couldn't find anything to say, but he knew Frederick didn't need him too. The white haired man gave a farewell nod before rolling himself out of the room. Gilbert watched as the man struggled a little with his own weight and felt awful that he couldn't offer his help. Frederick smiled back at Gilbert, a smile that said he would roll himself until he left this world.

Gilbert didn't smile back, but his face felt warm. He closed his eyes and let the old man's strength fill him. Maybe he could borrow some of it sometime.

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**Hee hee, did I find this more fun than I should have? ...Maybe. Am I a bad person? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter in all of it's non-happiness glory. I'm sorry, I already failed the Monday thing and I don't think that's going to come back anytime soon. Please bear with me and be patient for the next chapter.**

**Please tell me your thoughts! Reviews will probably get me through this writer's block! How was all the character reactions? How do you feel about the characters I revealed and added? Anything bum you out or get you excited? Let me know! It seriously helps. Favorites and follows also help. Thanks!**

**Have a great day! :D**


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